Page 31 of Librarian & the Rockstar

"You don't have to go," I whisper, shaking my head. I feel a little like I might cry, which is stupid. We never put labels on this. He never promised me anything. "I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't," he says, pinning me against the side of my rental. His face is stark, emotion bubbling in his eyes. "Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything," I lie. "I'm just trying to go before I'm late. I have Book Club this afternoon, remember?" By some miracle, Jazz actually convinced River to speak. I don't know how. I assume by sleeping with him, but that's not my business, so I'm not asking.

"Fuck Book Club," Ash growls, pressing his body up against mine. His lips come down on the side of my throat in a punishing bite. "I'm not letting you leave here, thinking I don't want to be seen with you."

"I don't think that."

"Liar."

"Maybe I'm just realizing that we're from two different worlds, that's all."

"Fuck that," he grunts, biting me again. "If you want me to go to the gala with you, I'll go. I'll go anywhere you want me to go, anytime you want me to go."

"That's not necessary, Ash. You don't owe me any—"

"It's not about owing you, beautiful. I want to go." He tips his head back, meeting my gaze. "Do I need to fuck the attitude out of you, or are you going to tell me what time the gala is?"

"I don't have an attitude."

His lips quirk into a soft grin. "Yeah, you do. I hurt your feelings, and you're doing your damnedest to hide it behind that cute fucking attitude. But all you're really doing is making my cock hard. So, are you going to tell me, or am I bending you over the hood?"

"You can't just use sex to get whatever you want, Ash."

"Yeah? Is that what you think?"

"Don't you dare," I hiss, but I might as well be waving a flag in front of a bull. The wicked gleam in his eye says plainly that he is going to dare. So does the way he spins me around like I'm his ragdoll, caging me against the side of my car.

I want to fight him. I want to be mad at him, and hurt. I want to storm away and lick my wounds and get my head together. But I also want him so badly, I could scream. And I'm mad as hell that he knows it. He always knows it.

"You're so fucking cute when you're pissed, Loralei," he breathes, his lips at my ear as he shoves his hand into my pants, ripping them down my legs. Cool air washes across my sensitive skin, and then his palm is there, grinding against my center like he owns it.

"You're an asshole," I moan.

"You love it." He bites the side of my throat, already working me open with two fingers. I bite my tongue, trying to stifle my cries, not willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing them, but it's no use. As soon as he curls his fingers inside me, I sob out loud, my body melting against the side of the car.

Within seconds, he has me in his arms, tossing me down over the hood. "Spread your legs," he demands, gathering my hair up in his fist. "Wider, baby. Make room for your man."

My man. God, he has no idea how much I want that. How damn badly I want him to be mine, not in secret, not just for a little while, but forever.

"That's it," he croons, the head of his cock brushing my folds. "You're such a good girl for me, Loralei." He slams inside me, bottoming out in one thrust.

"Ash," I whimper, writhing against the cool metal.

"Shh," he breathes, kissing all over the side of my neck. "I've got you. I'll take care of you."

He fucks me slow and deep, and then hard and fast, not letting me get used to the rhythm before he changes it up, leaving me hovering on the edge until I'm sobbing and begging, desperate to go over.

"What time is the gala?" he asks when tears leak from the corners of my eyes, and I can't take any more.

"Seven!" I cry, giving in because I need to come so badly, I feel like I might die. "It's at seven."

He presses his lips to the side of my throat in a sweet kiss. "Good girl," he breathes against my skin, his voice so soft, a tear rolls down my cheek. "Now, come all over me."

He starts moving again, slow and deep, his lips still against the side of my throat, as if he's tasting the beat of my heart with every thrust.

"I love you," he says.